


Acceptance

by LPM



Series: The 5 Stages of Possession [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Derek's Manpain, Developing Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Implied Mpreg, Jealousy, M/M, Manpain, Mates, Misunderstandings, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Omega Verse, References to Knotting, Smut, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPM/pseuds/LPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...Love is a hell of a drug. One minute he's high as a kite and the next he's plunged to deeper depths than even he had thought he could go to.</p><p>But instead of the sound of the door, he hears Stiles' footsteps nearing him. He turns around to tell him to leave but finds himself with a facefull of Stiles' fist, catching him firmly on the jaw. The blow only moves his head a little but the shock has him reeling back. He looks at Stiles who is smiling manically, shaking out his right hand.</p><p>"You" he says, "are the biggest idiot alive."..."</p><p>or</p><p>Derek and Stiles finally (finally!) set things straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I can say nothing for myself except for please excuse my general terribleness in updating. It's been like, a really rough semester back in school and I've only just now really been able to sit down with some of my outstanding works and get going. There's the usual amount of oddish sexual language in there so...you know...BE WARNED. Anyway, I won't keep y'all long with this, just please enjoy and please be free to leave feedback. You know how I love it and how I love you guys!
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles' vision is blurring, a saline screen of raw emotion filling his eyes even while he fights against it. Candles blaze in clusters on almost every surface; the light is bright but the shadows are deeper. Derek's face is sculpture, carved by the flickering of flames, all sharp angles and flat planes. His eyes though, are dark pools, made over-bright by some emotion, staring directly at Stiles; unreadable.

"You never say anything" Stiles says, "you never say a word."

Derek's mouth is a tight line, he makes no reply and Stiles feels a sob build in his chest. He breathes out harshly to quell it.

"I want to hear what you're thinking, I need to hear it..." he says, balancing on the edge of a plea.

"Otherwise...we'll just become nothing...are we..." he swallows around a surge of emotion "...are we nothing?"

His eyes implore Derek to say something, say anything; but Derek is like stone, as if he had looked upon a gorgon and was frozen. For long minutes, silence is their invisible companion, stretching dreadful and smothering between them. Then Stiles is covering his mouth, the tears he'd been holding back spill over and drench his face. His eyes are wide as he stares at Derek for a split second before whirling around and fleeing the room.

* * *

  
**_Earlier_ **   
  


When Stiles wakes up, his first sense is of his mouth, which feels as if something small and furry had crawled into it and died there in the night. He groans, smacking his mouth to urge some saliva into the situation so at least everything wouldn't be dry. He groans again when he becomes aware of his brain, throbbing viciously in his skull.

"Oh god" he moans, squeezing his eyes shut. His voice sounds as if someone has recently punched him in the neck and moving makes him feel like dying a thousand deaths. He cracks his eyes open, squinting around at the familiar shapes of his living room. Looking down, he sees the sleeping bag cocoon that, judging from the wild bush of brown hair sticking out of one end, contains Scott's comatose form.

"Dude..." Stiles grunts, and thumps the sleeping bag in the vague vicinity of Scott's shoulder.

"Nooooo" Scott moans, "leave me here to die!"

Stiles sits up and sees the 2 glasses of water, aspirins, and note with the unmistakable tone of raised brows and disapproval that only his father can muster in writing, all sitting on the table. He falls on them eagerly, gulping down the pills and then drinking the rest of the water in his glass.

"Scott, meds" he croaks, nudging his best friend with a foot.

It takes a couple more nudges and maybe a blow or four to the ass for Scott to get up and drink his painkiller. Two more hours and both of them are showered and changed, sitting groggily on the couch eating their hangover cure of southwestern scramble, hash brown casserole, and pancakes.

"So I don't remember all of last night" Stiles says around a mouthful of cheesy potatoes. Scott shrugs,

"Neither do I dude, not really surprising, that whole bottle of Hennessy is gone."

Stiles eyes the empty bottle with regret

"Never again!" he declares. Scott rolls his eyes,

"Sure," he says, "that's what you always say."

They both settle into silence again, munching steadily through their greasy breakfast, then Stiles speaks

"I feel kind of like I should remember something though" he says, "like I did something that might have been dumb."

Scott looks up as he tries to think beyond the mnemonically destructive haze of drunkenness.

"Oh yeah...I think you might have called someone last night." he says, and they both pause before realization strikes them simultaneously

"DEREK!" they shout in unison.

Stiles scrabbles for his phone and selects his call history. There it is, the very last outgoing call, Derek Hale.

"Oh no...oh shit..." he mutters, "well the call looks like it was short so I must not have had time to say anything..." he starts saying, but Scott shakes his head, looking mournful.

"No dude, I just remembered...you left him a message."

Stiles stares openmouthed at Scott's sympathetically scrunched up face, before grabbing fistfuls of his hair and slumping back against the couch.

"That's it" he groans, "I am definitely never touching liquor again!"

* * *

 

Derek wakes up and instantly regrets foregoing a shower the previous night. His skin feels disgusting, and he just knows he’ll have to bust out his second set of sheets because the ones he’s lying on now will have to be burned.

Aside from being filthy from sweat and grit from his workout, he’d gotten spunk all over the place and had fallen asleep without bothering to take care of the mess.

“Disgusting” he mutters to the empty loft.

Getting up is a trial, his bones feel like lead and his head feels as if it’s stuffed with cotton. For all that he’d done nothing more than work out the night before, his body is reacting to emotional turmoil as if he’d been out the entire night drinking.

A shower and a change of clothes leave him feeling much better physically, but inside he’s still a ruin. Deadened eyes look out at the world as he leaves his loft, bound for the store. Even the ravages of love lost shouldn’t keep him from overseeing his business. That and the amount of shit Erica would give him if he didn’t turn up would be unbearable.

* * *

 

“I’ve been calling you!” The first words out of Erica’s mouth are, typically, sharp ones. It being early, the only patrons in the store are pale, dead eyed business types and rumpled college students.

Derek raises a brow at Erica but checks his phone, which tells him he has 5 missed calls.

“You’re really terrible at checking your phone” Erica complains, following him as he walks to the back office, “why do you even have one!?”

He sighs deeply as he settles into his chair, then glares up at Erica who is standing, arms crossed and fuming, in the door.

“What,” he spits tersely “did you want.”

She rolls her eyes at him and tosses her long blonde ponytail before launching into a spiel about the annual summer’s end festival that evening. Derek listens, but his mind is somewhere else.

Though Stiles hasn’t been in the store for some time, some places still smell undeniably like him. The break room is drenched in his scent, the evidence of where Derek had driven Stiles to ecstasy as they rocked together. Even now Derek can still hear Stiles’ harsh breaths, the punctuation at the end of each thrust. He can see, in his mind’s eye, the scrap of red lace, clinging to the pale skin of Stiles’ hips, wet and bulging where his length pressed against it; erect. They are memories that assault him in the moment, when he knows he can’t just stride into the shop and take Stiles by the wrist, dragging him into the room for a repeat performance.

“…Derek?” Erica is looking at him, nose scrunched up

“Are you ok?” she asks, “you smell kind of…odd.”

Derek half-asses a smile at her and wonders if she knows the scent of heartbreak.

* * *

 

The Village Square, the name of the shopping area Derek's business is located in, has an annual summer's end festival. Every year, each store in the square participated in a sort of carnival, contributing things like ice-cream, funnel cakes, cotton candy and the like. Derek had signed on months ago, before he'd rather crawl into a hole and die than stand outside pretending to be cheerful amid crowds of people. Nevertheless, he _had_ agreed to participate and Erica would maim him if he backed out now after all the hassle of preparing the stand she had gone through.

"We have a lot of stores participating this year" the owner of the Square, Johnston Applegate, professes smugly at the owners' meeting later that day.

"And we're expecting a huge turnout from the community so I want everyone on their best and brightest. These people could become a new generation of customers!"

Derek had never liked the man, he was always eyeing Erica up inappropriately and just gave off a generally unpleasant feeling; but he was the owner and Derek had to "play nice."

"Excuse me, I don't know if anyone's brought this up but I've sent numerous queries to your office about the power grid?" one shop owner, Billy Caswell, raises his voice and Applegate flicks an annoyed glance in his direction.

"Well I haven't gotten any such 'query' so I'm sure I have no idea what---" he starts saying but Billy interrupts him,

"It's about the power grid. It's old, we've needed to get some updates done for a while. It's worked fine running just the power for the shops but I don't think it'll be up to taking all the extra juice we'll need to have the festival this year. I swear I went to plug in a power saw and the whole building's lights flickered. I'm afraid we'll knock out the whole neighborhood if we go on with it..."

Muttering sweeps through the meeting and Applegate looks around nervously before plastering a wide smile on his face and holding up his hands,

"now now folks, calm down" he says lightly "we've got people coming to look at this power situation. It'll be fine by tonight."

Most of the shop owners seem placated by this promise and Billy settles down albeit with a mutinous look on his face. Clearly he doesn't believe it, but the meeting must go on.

Derek sighs deeply, too lost in his own thoughts to really pay any attention to anything.

* * *

 

  
Stiles lets himself be nervous and upset for all of five minutes before taking a deep breath and trying to expel all the negative emotions. He'd let Scott talk him into going to the Summer's End Festival because a) he needed to get out of the house and b) it's a big event, not like he'd definitely see Derek. As long as he avoided going to his area of the square he should be fine; and if anyone gave him the side-eye for playing the evasion game then they could go kick rocks. Clearly Derek had either heard whatever, undoubtedly embarrassing, message Stiles had left and decided to keep ignoring him; or he was still just ignoring Stiles for whatever other reason. Emotional constipation. Either way, if Derek got to play games and not get any shit for it, then Stiles could very well take his time swallowing fear and pride enough to go talk.

"See? Isn't this awesome? Erica said there's funnel cakes somewhere" Scott says eagerly, looking like a hyperactive kid as his eyes dart from exciting thing to exciting thing. Stiles knows he'd partially been so desperate for him to come along because Isaac is on duty at the coffee shop stand and can't accompany him, so he tries to muster some energy for his best friend's sake.

"Yeah yeah buddy," he says, "let's go find you some fried dough. Then there's a tilt-a-whirl that's been in operation since like, the 70s and I really want to see how that's still up and running."

* * *

 

An hour later, Scott has excused himself to a nearby trashcan, the result of eating too many fried items and then insisting on riding the tilt-a-whirl which turns out to be in perfect sick-making working order.

Stiles stands near one of those scam "knock over the bottles and get a prize" booths by himself, wondering why Scott thought it was a good idea to combine high-velocity spinning and a full stomach. He's just about to go and check on his nauseous friend when someone calls his name and he turns around,

"Fitz" he says in greeting, giving the other man a weak smile.

Dressed in a typically tight-fitting, borderline fashion-victimy ensemble, Fitz looks downright jovial as he walks up and gives Stiles a one-armed hug.

"Hey man" he says cheerfully, "I feel like I haven't seen you in an age!"

Stiles feels a little guilty. Fitz had been genuinely friendly and kind to Stiles in the time he'd come to the coffee shop and Stiles hadn't spared a thought for him when he'd left.

"Yeah sorry, I stopped working at the shop and things have been kind of hectic. Anyway, it's good to see you, what're you doing here? I mean obviously you're here for the fair..." Stiles trails off sheepishly but Fitz just laughs.

"Yeah my girlfriend is wild about these things, something about the whole...small-town nostalgic feel of it. Oh! You've never met my lady have you? Irina!" he calls and through the crowd comes a woman with long-dark hair wearing a crop top and a long flowing skirt; both in black. She peers up at Stiles from beyond the rim of her wide-brimmed hat and gives him a small smile before wrapping an arm around Fitz's waist,

"Irina, this is Stiles, the one I've been telling you about" Fitz says, "and Stiles, this is my girlfriend Irina, she just got into town like last week. She was majorly bummed she missed the costume party so I told her I'd have another one. You and your friends are totally invited again, had a blast with them last time!"

Stiles nods absently as his mind reels from the sick irony of the situation. That Fitz, whose mere presence had sort of landed Stiles in that whole kerfuffle with Derek, had had a girlfriend the entire time, was a bit much to take in at the moment.

"You guys have got to come" Irina intones, "Fitz says that Erica especially was a major riot."

Stiles, remembering how outrageous everyone had been at the party, can only smile in agreement.

"Yeah sure, I'll be sure to tell them." he says. Even if Derek was being an ass, there was no reason he shouldn't keep being Fitz's friend. The guy was cool and pretty interesting, ridiculous dress sense aside.

"Oh I think I see my sister over there" Irina says and extracts herself from Fitz's side, quickly disappearing into the crowd. Fitz watches her go and Stiles recognizes the obviously lovestruck look on his face.

"I better go with her, Irina and her sister need a mediator at all times" Fitz says dreamily and Stiles would roll his eyes because of course he'd befriended another lovey-dovey idiot, but he holds himself back.

"Well I won't keep you then, it was nice seeing you" he says, giving Fitz a genuine smile and turning to go find Scott.

"Oh wait!" Fitz says "I changed my number a few days ago. Let me give you the new one"

Stiles hands his phone over and stands waiting while Fitz punches in his info. When he's done, he calls himself to test and they smile at each other when it works.

"Alright then Stilinski, I'll call you about the party and stuff later! Make sure you bring that angry-looking boyfriend of yours this time!" Fitz says teasingly and, at Stiles' shocked expression, chuckles

"what? you didn't think I didn't see that guy glaring at me every time I walked into the store? He has eyes like a laser beam. Anyway, let me run off, looking forward to seeing you guys at the party!"

with this, Fitz turns and runs off in the direction Irina had disappeared in. Stiles laughs and shakes his head. Derek really was being obvious about his dislike of Fitz, he'll have to get him to apologize later.

"Well let's go find Scotty shall we?" he mutters to himself and turns around.

And stops dead in his tracks.

* * *

 

Derek has never really liked festivals. For all that they were supposedly fun-filled and family-friendly events and good for business besides, he has a general dislike for places that are too crowded. Being amid the throngs of chattering humans is oddly numbing for a werewolf because the abundance of people means an overwhelming amount of scents. Add to that the different foods and drinks and snacks being made in one enclosed area and a werewolf nose just has to shut down a little to deal with it. The same goes for his hearing, which he has to turn all the way down to withstand the low roar of voices, carnival rides, music, and so on. One hour into the Summer's End Festival and he's already dangling on the end of his tolerance. People keep coming to the booth to flirt and ogle Erica, Isaac, and Derek himself. Children kept knocking into things and one had deposited the content of its stomach directly in front of the booth earlier. Derek blames the parents for letting their kid eat so much so fast.

Its the mess of vomit that currently has Derek striding impatiently through the crowds of people back from the supply tent on the other side of the square where he had picked up things to clean the disgusting mess with.

As he maneuvers around a pair of bickering girls, narrowly avoiding being smacked in the chest by the ridiculously large hat one of them is wearing, he can only pray that the fair ends quickly so he can slink home and collapse in his bed. Alone. Again. Just as he's about to pivot right to head in the direction of his shop, he catches a whiff of a specific scent through the mess of smells of the fair. Without thinking, he turns bodily and sees the source of that scent almost immediately.

Stiles.

Standing there looking like something from a dream, smiling earnestly at...Fitz.

Just as soon as the rush of seeing Stiles had hit him, it dies a terrible flaming death. Derek watches as they chat, as Stiles smiles, as they exchange numbers. He feels like his entire soul is burning, like his broken heart had been revived for a few sweet seconds only to be smashed into pieces again. This time, however, he doesn't feel anger at Fitz. He's jealous, sure, but not angry; because he's accepted it now. That no matter how desperately he wants Stiles, and he does want him, its not use if Stiles doesn't want him back.

Pain doesn't blossom inside him, it explodes. It knifes through him sharply and takes his breath away. Ever since the fire, since Kate, he'd resisted this. Letting himself become so completely and irrevocably involved with another person. He'd been afraid of what it could do to him, the want and the yearning. By loving Stiles, he'd given him the power to destroy Derek's entire soul. That was what he was feeling, watching Stiles and Fitz together. Watching as Stiles moved on.

He's so frozen in his own personal hell that he barely notices that Fitz is leaving and Stiles is turning...turning to face him and look dead in his eyes.

* * *

 

"Derek..." Stiles croaks, the name feeling odd coming through his suddenly-numb lips. His mind is racing, trying to think of the best way to salvage what was surely an incriminating scene. There's no doubt that Derek has just seen him and Fitz together and, judging by the gut-wrenchingly devastated expression on his face, is thinking all the wrong things.

"Derek...let me..." Stiles starts saying, stepping forward. Derek steps back at that, looking quite a bit like an animal on the defensive. Stiles' heart sinks but he steels himself against discouragement and takes another step forward.

"Derek, it's not what..." he starts saying but in the next moment everything goes dark and, after a pause, people start screaming.

Chaos erupts and Stiles is buffeted by panicked people as they run screaming towards the only illuminated point in the square. He tries calling for Derek but he can barely hear himself over the din.

"Stiles!" Scott's familiar outline is faintly visible, suddenly appearing to his left and grabbing his arm.

"Come on dude, let's go find Erica and Isaac. Why do people always start screaming and running when it gets dark? Its dangerous!" he says, and tows Stiles off through the crowd.

 

* * *

 

Derek runs all the way back to his apartment.

He knows he should have gone back to the booth to help Erica and Isaac, but he's in no state to be around anyone. Especially not where anyone could potentially sniff out what he's feeling.

The streets are all dark, people in a frenzy. It turns out that Billy Caswell was right, the funky old electrical system for the Square had overloaded and shorted the grid for a wide radius around it. Johnston Applegate will have a lot to answer to later. The unusual darkness suits Derek's mood, though, and he feels somehow comforted by the shadows as he dashes through the night.

When he gets home, he finds every candle he owns and lights them with shaking hands. He might have werewolf night-vision, but he'd rather not have to use it while battling off tears. Derek hates crying, he tries to avoid it, but sometimes the soul needs the release and now is one of those times.

He doesn't quite know what to do with himself, he's teeming with an unfamiliar amount of emotions, all warring for control of his body. What's more is that all the emotional turmoil has rendered his control over his wolf nearly nonexistent, his eyes gleam red, he takes deep, gasping breaths around dropped fangs.

"Are you sure?" faintly he hears a familiar voice and his head snaps up, eyes staring directly at his door.

"Yeah, I have to tell him." he knows those voices, and one comes from someone he definitely doesn't want to see. Not now. Not when everything is still so....raw.

He gets up to lock his loft door but its too late, the latch clicks and it opens to admit Stiles, looking cautious but determined.

"We have to talk," he says. And Derek can't do anything but let him in, even though the sight of him has his stomach twisting into knots.

"Why didn't you call me?" Stiles burst out, once the door is shut and they stand, facing each other amid the circle of flickering candles.

"I left you a message and everything, I...why didn't you call me back?" he asks. Derek remembers the 5 missed calls notification on his phone, one of them must have been from Stiles.

"I never check my messages" he grunts, "you should know that."

Defense mode. Just like a wolf injured and alone in the wild, he has to protect himself. It's either go on the defensive or be eaten alive.

It doesn't stop him from feeling bad when Stiles flinches at the tone of his voice.

"You're not being fair Derek," Stiles says, "this isn't my fault."

At that, Derek only presses his lips into a tight line, knowing he looks angry but feeling hurt like a slap in the face.

"And it's supposed to be _my_ fault?" he bites out, "I think you're the one being unfair here."

Then, horrifyingly, tears well up in Stiles' eyes.

"You never say anything" he says, "you never say a word."

His voice is thick, as if he's speaking around the threat of tears, but Derek can't let himself be tender-hearted. That particular organ had had enough abuse to last a lifetime.

"I want to hear what you're thinking, I need to hear it..." Stiles says in a voice that is almost a plea.

"Otherwise...we'll just become nothing...are we...are we nothing?"

Derek can't respond, he can't. He'd been rejected once, been tossed away without a word. Just one line of mountain ash on a windowsill he never thought would be closed to him. That was his heartache, that was his pain, and that is what keeps him from speaking. Keeps his mouth tightly shut.

They stare at each other for what feels like hours, and Derek can feel his resolve crumbling under the force of Stiles' pleading eyes. Then the tears that had made those eyes so glassy and bright spill over and a sob forces its way out of Stiles' mouth and his resolve is gone. Just like that.

Stiles runs to the door, and is fumbling at the handle when Derek finally moves. Strides over and grabs those hands, whirling Stiles around.

"You want to know what I'm thinking?" he hisses, pressing in until they're plastered together, Stiles' back up against the door.

"I'm thinking that I love you," Stiles' eyes go wide and his body stills,

"what?" he whispers.

"I tried to let you go, I tried to keep you at arm's length so you could keep living your life. I didn't even realize when I stopped being able to do that. I can't remember when my heart was mine alone, I can't...I don't want to share you. Not with anyone. I love you and I want all of you, forever."

he releases Stiles and steps back; takes a deep breath and looks into those familiar eyes,

"But you don't want me the same way, and I can't be around you knowing that."

Feeling drained, he turns and goes back into the living room.

He expects to hear his door open and close, effectively ending one of the most wonderful and terrible things he's ever gotten to experience.

Love is a hell of a drug. One minute he's high as a kite and the next he's plunged to deeper depths than even he had thought he could go to.

But instead of the sound of the door, he hears Stiles' footsteps nearing him. He turns around to tell him to leave but finds himself with a facefull of Stiles' fist, catching him firmly on the jaw. The blow only moves his head a little but the shock has him reeling back. He looks at Stiles who is smiling manically, shaking out his right hand.

"You" he says, "are the biggest idiot alive."

Then he's closing the space between them and drawing Derek in for a kiss.

When their lips touch, warmth curls in Derek's belly like a contented kitten. He opens his mouth to Stiles' tongue, slipping lazily inside; and its all so familiar and yet not that he can't do anything but kiss back and let his mind go.

When they break apart, they're both breathing heavily. Derek's eyes send questions that he doesn't quite know how to put into words, and Stiles smiles softly, stroking the side of his face he'd punched earlier.

"Sorry for this," he murmurs, "but you totally deserved it."

Derek stiffens but Stiles is having none of it, he grabs onto his waist and holds tight in case Derek tries to back away.

"Nope, you're not running away from me. Not again. Not ever again." he says fiercely,

"because you have to know, you idiot, that I love you too. I love you so much that I can't imagine living without your stupid scowling face next to me forever. I love you, that's why I punched you. I thought maybe I'd knock some sense into your assumption-making, endless sulking, silent manpain having, werewolf ass."

He looks deep into Derek's eyes, trying to put as much feeling into his face as he can.

"Get it now you freaking dummy? I. Love. You. No one else. Just you."

Inside Derek, his wolf howls, but the only outward indication is in the glowing red of his eyes. He breaks free from Stiles' grip and then picks him up, throwing him over a shoulder. Stiles squawks gleefully as Derek strides to the bedroom and deposits him on the bed.

"I've missed this place" Stiles sighs as Derek crawls over him.

"It's missed you too" Derek says, "I've missed you."

Stiles winds his arms around Derek's neck and splays his fingers along Derek's back and into his hair,

"mmmm I missed you too, now kiss me again you big lug."

Derek obeys.

* * *

 

Reunion often brightens familiar things, turns the usual into the new. As the old saying goes, distance makes the heart grow fonder, and it's done that and more for Stiles and Derek.

Though they have explored each other time and time again, their separation made everything seem somehow new.

The scrape of Derek's stubble on the soft skin of Stiles' inner thigh; the burning slide of his fingers pressing into Stiles' hole, all of it was familiar and so new at the same time. They had wasted no time divesting each other of clothes, and once their naked flesh had touched, it was like Stiles couldn't wait to have Derek inside him again.

"tell me" Derek groans, trailing kisses down Stiles' chest where he can almost feel the frantic beating of his lover's heart. One hand follows his lips, stroking over the skin he's marked, the other is lower, two fingers buried in the tight heat of Stiles' hole.

"Tell me you're mine."

Stiles takes a shuddering breath, every nerve on fire. It hasn't even been that long since he'd last had Derek like this, but his body is reacting like it had been an age. He's wetter than he's ever been, body clenching greedily at Derek's fingers as they twist inside him, driving him higher and higher.

"I...I..." he tries speaking but his voice tapers into a sharp gasp as Derek teases him mercilessly.   
"Yes?" the werewolf drawls, and Stiles resists the urge to smack him in the head, but only because Derek adds another finger and twists.

"Please, please, please" he gabbles on the tail end of a long moan. His body is so hot, so hypersensitive to Derek's touch that he can't do much more than writhe there on the sheets and let Derek drive him out of his mind.

Derek leans up and kisses him long and deep, tongue plunging in an out in a faint imitation of his fingers as they play with Stiles' entrance. Stretching him to readiness.

"You're so wet, so good for me" Derek murmurs against Stiles' lips, "you don't even know what you do to me when you're like this."

He leans back and up on his knees, removing his fingers from inside Stiles with a slick noise. Stiles gasps at the loss, upset at being so suddenly empty. Derek smiles at him, softly and so full of love that Stiles' heart stutters.

"Don't worry baby" he murmurs, "I'm not going anywhere."

Then he reaches for the lube, uncapping it and squeezing some into his hand. He groans low in his throat as he slicks himself up, but his eyes burn into Stiles' own the entire time.

When he finishes, he leans in, captures Stiles' panting mouth in a kiss that's more sloppy and wet than anything, but neither of them care. It feels too good, too much like victory after a long and tiring battle, to stop.

"Come on Derek," Stiles says breathily, lips scraping along the stubble-rough area around Derek's mouth "come on,"

His legs spread wider and his eyes are dark as he looks at Derek, urging him on. The air is thick with the potent scent of arousal, clogging everything, provoking the wildness inside them both. Derek lifts Stiles' long legs up so they hook around his shoulders, then takes himself in hand and presses forward, sinking inside the familiar heat inch by inch.

Stiles' mind is blank, the only thing he knows is Derek; the pulsing thickness of him as it slides inexorably forward, filling him to the brim. He can feel his mouth moving, knows he must be babbling, and throws one arm across his face to stanch the flow of words. But Derek reaches down and removes it, runs one thumb across Stiles' kiss-swollen lips,

"let me hear you" he says in a voice like gravel "let me hear."

They tangle together like they had so may times in the past, fuck like the world is ending and all that's left is each other. Derek's eyes are intent on Stiles' face as it contorts in pleasure. Stiles scrapes blunt nails down Derek's skin, bites his lips hard enough to draw blood.

"Oh god. Oh god" he gasps. The room is filled with the sound of his babbled oaths, of Derek groaning as he buries himself deep inside again and again, of the slap of skin on skin and the lewd slick noises of Derek's cock plunging into Stiles' wetness.

"I'm going to fill you up so full," Derek pants, "gonna stuff that tight little pussy with my knot and make you big with my cubs"

Stiles gasps as Derek thrusts harder, grinding himself deep on each stroke. Pleasure is blinding, all consuming, earth shattering, as it races in his veins, drives him dizzyingly fast towards climax.

"Yeah," Stiles moans "come on, knot me."

Derek growls and moves positions so Stiles is sitting up on top of him, Derek's hands gripping hot and hard at his hips. The new angle has Derek pressing in deeper, brushing insistently against Stiles' prostate, making him see white.

" _Derek_ " Stiles gasps, rocking on top of the werewolf. Derek's hands move to cup his ass, spreading his cheeks around the thickness of his cock.

"Come on baby, come for me" he says, voice low. "come for me,"

And Stiles is already at the edge, already hanging on by a thread, so he just lets go, topples into oblivion with a loud cry. He throws his head back, exposing his neck to Derek's hungry eyes. Climax shudders through his entire body, curling his toes and making him clench hard around Derek who flips them again so Stiles is on his back. Then Derek is fucking into him, frantic and hard, without any rhythm.

"Unngh" Derek groans and thrusts into Stiles one more time, grinding his hips tight against Stiles' ass and coming deep inside him with a shout.

* * *

 

When they've cooled down, they lay together, spent and sweaty, in the middle of the bed. Stiles curls contentedly, half on top of Derek's chest, idly stroking his hair.

"So," he says into the silence, "you love me."

Derek huffs but is smiling as he looks down the top of Stiles' tousled head,

"yeah, I guess I do." he replies. Stiles looks up at him through narrowed eyes,

"you _guess?_ " he says, warningly.

Derek rolls his eyes and wraps his arms around Stiles body, flipping them so he's on top, looking down.

"I love you," he says, and lays a kiss on Stiles' forehead.

"I love you" he says again, and kisses his cheeks.

"I love you," he says once more and he kisses Stiles on the lips. Gently at first, slowly and passionately, deeply.

  
"I knew it" Stiles murmurs and Derek doesn't even comment. Only leans in to kiss him again. Stiles is an idiot, but he's an idiot Derek loves, and he plans on proving it for as long as they're both alive.

END

**Author's Note:**

> So how was it? FINALLY amirite? Derek does a lot of dumb things but we got there in the end! He's totally gonna have to go to Fitz's party and apologize for being such an anus. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed my 5 Stages series. It's finally finished!
> 
> Please be sure to leave me your questions, concerns, criticism and what have you in the comments and please do visit me on tumblr at thelpm.tumblr.com


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